


Departed Friends

by queen_daisy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 13:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_daisy/pseuds/queen_daisy
Summary: Not everything is the same after Sherlock returned to London





	Departed Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to kind nonny for concrit

Sherlock was just bending over to examine the body more closely when somebody grabbed him by the shoulder. He turned and saw an unfamiliar PC.

“C’mon, get back, no civilians allowed to the crime scene,” he said, not letting go of Sherlock, practically dragging him away.

Sherlock was so surprised that the PC managed to get him all the way behind the yellow police line before he managed to protest.

“I’m Sherlock Holmes! I’m granted access to every scene!” he finally said. The PC just looked him over and went back to the body. Sherlock looked around and yes, there was Lestrade, just stepping out of the police car. Sherlock hurried towards him...and then stopped. The DI was grey haired, around fifty, but he was not Gareth. Sherlock was pretty sure had never seen him before and he had met all the senior detectives at the Met.

“Who are you?’” he asked the DI. The man just looked at him and was already walking away when Sherlock continued, “Where is Lestrade? This is his territory.”

The DI stopped and turned back. “Greg Lestrade?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Sherlock. 

The DI looked at him strangely. “Greg Lestrade died three years ago. He was shot by an unknown assailant.”

Sherlock was so shocked that he didn’t even notice notice the DI walking away. He took the phone from his coat, scrolling through names and numbers - but there was no Lestrade number in his contacts. No Lestrade, no GL, no Gareth, Garry or Greg. Nothing.

He managed to remember the number but it didn’t matter.

“The number you have dialed is not in service,” he heard.

Something was very wrong. He dialed Mycroft next. But even before the call connected, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and there was Mycroft. Sherlock was usually annoyed by his brother’s surveillance but honestly, he was glad for it this time.

“Where is Lestrade?” he asked. “That DI said he’s dead but I saw him yesterday!”

Mycroft sighed and suddenly looked sad. “We talked about it, Sherlock,” he replied. “Lestrade was shot three years ago. By Moriarty's associate. Remember?”

“No,” Sherlock said, even as he felt dread enveloping him. “That’s impossible, how can he be dead? I was at his office yesterday, we were talking about Cartwright case, he was complaining about paperwork.” But Mycroft was shaking his head.

“No, Sherlock. Please listen to me. Lestrade is dead. He died three years ago. You tried to delete it but it’s true.”

“No! “ he was shouting now, trying to think, trying to make sense of it all but somebody grabbed him, trying to take him somewhere and Mycroft was talking to him but Sherlock couldn’t understand him, his mind was getting blurry...and then, there was darkness.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” Mycroft said, looking at his brother It was late afternoon. Sherlock was still sleeping off the sedative. “It’s getting worse. This was the second time this week.”

“Yes, sir,” Anthea replied. She made a note on her phone. “Maybe we could contact Dr Watson?”

“"No!" The reply was forceful. “I don’t want Sherlock near him. It would worsen his state.” He sighed. “Please call me when he wakes up. I don’t want him to talk to anybody but me,” he said as he left.


End file.
